


Gold Coins Are Boring, Uncle Scrooge

by galoots



Series: Tumblr Prompts [6]
Category: Disney Duck Universe, Disney Ducks (Comics)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 08:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18890824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galoots/pseuds/galoots
Summary: Donald can't bear to listen to Scrooge argue with Flintheart for one minute more.





	Gold Coins Are Boring, Uncle Scrooge

“I agree, Scroogie. The Pre-1933 US gold coins do have a lovely heft to them, but you must admit the South African Mint Gold Krugerrands have a lovely sheen that makes your Saint Gauden’s Double Eagle look like a lump of common coal.” Flintheart flipped Scrooge’s gold coin up into the air and smirked at his rival. 

“Bah! You’ve gone batty, Flinty.” Scrooge snatched his coin out of mid-air and placed it gingerly back into it’s velvet case next to the Indian Half Eagle and the Gold Buffalo. “My gold coin collection far outshines your own. Compared to my own, yours looks like the pilfered loose change from between the couch cushions of your Nana’s house.” 

“How dare you!” Flintheart slammed his cane against the ground and started jabbing a finger aggressively in Scrooge’s face. “You wouldn’t know good taste if it was right under your big beak, you skinflint!” 

“Big beak?! At least my facial feathers don’t make me look like a duckling who hasn’t lost his downy coat yet, you string-collector!” 

From his spot on a nearby couch, Donald let out an exaggerated huff. When he’d agreed to drive Scrooge around for the day, he didn’t think he’d have to listen to these old codgers pissing contest as well. Donald aimlessly scrolled through Instagram as the two old men hurled insults at each other. He couldn’t believe the two of them had been going on about luster and gauge size and rarity and other such nonsense for almost two hours now. 

A notification popped up from Louie; he’d sent a picture of Dewey and Huey posing with an enormous golden trophy. At least his boys were having fun at their Junior Woodchuck retreat. If only he could say the same for himself. He glanced over at his Uncle quarreling with his nemesis in an attempt to catch Scrooge’s eye.  

Scrooge held Donald’s gaze for a moment as Donald looked at him pleadingly, hoping his eagerness to leave was readily apparent. To his disappointment, Scrooge flicked his eyes away from Donald’s desperate wide eyes and back to Glomgold as the yelling began anew. 

 _Guess I’ll have to go with a more direct approach._ Donald heaved himself off the couch and walked over to the arguing pair. He stood by them for a moment, waiting for one of them to acknowledge his presence. However, the two of them continued to bicker without taking notice of him. He cleared his throat loudly with theatrical aplomb. 

“Gesundheit.” Flintheart answered nonchalantly before resuming his argument with Scrooge. 

For god’s sake. “A-HEM.”  

Scrooge snapped away from the heated gaze he was locked in to look at his nephew. “You alright, laddie? Got something caught in your throat?”

Surely his Uncle wasn’t this thick. “Uncle Scrooge, isn’t it getting awfully late?”

Scrooge readjusted his spectacles and squinted at his wristwatch. “Doesn’t seem so to me.” 

“Well, surely you haven’t forgotten about your appointment, right?” Please Scrooge, he silently begged, take a hint! “If we’re late, they’ll charge you a fee!”

Scrooge scoffed. “I haven’t got an appointment today! I swear, nephew, your so forgetful sometimes.” 

“Heh,” chortled Flintheart, “Your nephew is just a dunderhead-ed as his pathetic old uncle! Go sit down, boy-o and let the grown-ups talk.” 

The end of Scrooge’s cane was thrust rudely into Flintheart’s chest. “Don’t you dare insult my nephew! I won’t allow you to speak to him that way!” 

Flintheart pushed Scrooge’s cane aside roughly and shoved his beak against Scrooge’s own. “I’ll talk to him however I please! I don’t have to do anything you say!” 

Their argument picked up anew with twice the ferocity of before, and Donald stood by forgotten amidst the fray. He tried desperately to get a word in, but each time he was drowned out. Donald’s temple started to throb with anger as he was continually cut off again and again. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Phooey on being polite. 

“DAD, CAN WE  _ **PLEASE**  _GO HOME NOW?!” Donald clapped his hands over his beak, but it was too late. The room fell silent for a moment. 

“Hmph!” Scrooge puffed out his chest with pride, preening himself over Donald’s unfortunate slip of the tongue. “Well,  _son._ I suppose your right! Clearly, there’s no reasoning with this fool.” Scrooge shot a glare at Flintheart as if to say,  _here that? He called me Dad. Take your Kruggerands and shove it. I’ve got something better._

Dear god. He was never going to hear the end of this, was he? Scrooge wrapped an arm chummily around Donald’s shoulders, pulling his nephew close. 

“Well, you’ll have to excuse us, Flinty. I apologize for Donnie’s outburst. He’s usually much more well-mannered than this. After all, I raised him to be polite. But, kids will be kids you know!” Scrooge gave Flintheart a rough thump on his shoulder. “Toodle-oo, then!”


End file.
